


Tear Down My Walls

by RyRyCaptain



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Moving In Together, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 06:49:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18463694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyRyCaptain/pseuds/RyRyCaptain
Summary: Daniel Howell has spent the last five years building countless walls around him. When he realizes they do more harm then anything else, he turns to his best friend.OrThat friends to lovers fic where Phil saves Dan from his own demented thoughts.





	Tear Down My Walls

**Author's Note:**

> Tw//homophobia, abuse, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, alcoholism, and depression (please tell me if there are anymore) 
> 
> This chapter has the most warnings. They will decrease as the story moves along.

Daniel Howell doesn’t know what drives him to cover his arms in scars that he cust a little too deep, but the scars run up his forearms. The one thing he knows is that the butterflies he draws on his wrist stop him nine times out of ten. 

Maybe it is weird that the innocent insect represents something so demented to him, but he’s glad something represents the constant battles in his mind. 

He wishes he didn’t have to face the internal battles, but everything and everyone seems to be against him. Well everyone except his best friend Phil Lester. 

He’s the person who Dan names each and every butterfly after. He honestly doesn’t know where he’d be if it weren’t for Phil, but if he had to guess, he’d probably be dead at this point.

It wasn’t that Dan had a horrible life. The first twelve years were almost like heaven in a way. He had a loving mother and a somewhat supportive father. It was great. 

Then everything turned for the worst. His mother died of breast cancer in the fall after his twelfth birthday. All of the love he’d gotten disappeared from his life.

His father started drinking. He became angry and lashed out at Dan, screaming obscenities and blaming Dan for his mother’s death. His father would tell him that if it weren’t for the constant attention he needed, his mother would still be alive. Dan could deal with the verbal stuff. He could deal with the angry lies and screams. 

It didn’t become worse until he was accidentally outed to his father by one of his classmates at a conference. Things became physical then. He can’t go near his father without being shoved against the wall or slapped in the face. The depression set in that day, and that night was the first time he picked up the razor blade. 

Dan’s anxiety begins to race as he unlocks the door of his bedroom and heads down the stairs. He knows he is risking another round of abuse, but he’s hungry nonetheless. He freezes at the bottom of the steps when he hears a loud bang resonate from the kitchen.

He braces himself and he walks the rest of the way into the kitchen. The old man is stood by the stove staring down at the eggs he’s cooking in a pan. Dan could only imagine the hangover in the old man’s head. 

Dan is tiptoeing into the kitchen and grabbing a yogurt from the fridge without a second thought. He grabs a spoon from the drawer sending a small sound of off clinking silverware through the room. The old man whips around and throws the spatula down onto the floor at the realization of his son being in the room.

Dan turns towards the cabinets and stares at them. He feels the back of his shirt being gripped, and the next thing he knows his back was against the wall and pain is radiating throughout it. The smell of alcohol fills the air and dan rolls his eyes at the fact that his father had already started to drink for the day. “Are you listening to me you disgrace?” his father screams. 

 

Dan stays quiet. His father slaps him before he pushes him to the side and disappears into the living room. Dan creeps out the back door and lets out a sigh of relief when he feels the cool air hit his face. He cuts through the hedges separated his yard from Phil’s.

He runs into Phil in the front yard. His shoulders relaxing as soon as he sees his friend. They start the long walk to the school in silence the only exception being the sound of Phil’s battered, red converses hitting the pavement. “Did it happen again today?” Phil asks, breaking the silence. 

Dan lets out a sigh. “Of course it did,” he answers.

Phil nods. Dan starts to wring his hands together. It was a nervous tick he adapted at some point after his mother passed five years ago. “Are you okay?” Phil asks, his face filled with concern.

Dan loves that he cared so much. Dan loves a lot about Phil. He loves the older boy’s raven black hair and piercing blue eyes, and he especially loves his personality. Phil is the light in Dans dark world, and he loves him for that.

They arrive at school and separate to go to their home rooms. He looks down at his wrist already missing his best friend. The yellow butterfly is drawn over the scars. It looks is little reminder that Phil was with him no matter what, but it is also a reminder of his detrimental mindset.

———

Dan arrives home to find his father passed out on the couch. Multiple beer bottles lay on the coffee table. He goes around the table picking up the bottles and disposing them in the recycling bin.

The amount of beer that his father consumed would surprise him if it didn’t happen almost every day, but it did. 

He trudges upstairs into his room and locks the door, tossing his bag onto the floor and throwing himself onto his bed. He stares up at the ceiling. Phil left school early, and Dan had yet to talk to him.

It feels awkward to keep to himself all day. Without his daily venting session with Phil, it feels like something was missing. He sighs and gets up to grab markers from his desk. The butterfly that was currently drawn on his wrist had started to fade, and it needed a few touch ups.

He is rummaging around the mess in his desk drawer before he’s pulling something out. It isn’t a marker though. Instead its the small razor blade he hid from himself. 

He doesn’t know why he’d pulled it out but seeing it make him need the feeling of relief again. He wants to fight it. He wants the feeling to go away. 

It doesn’t. He finds himself doing something he knows he won’t forgive himself for. The blade is against his skin, and he’s dragging it across his skin. After the third cut, he walks over to the window and throws it out onto the street.

No more chances of relapse now. He grabs bandages from his drawer and wraps it around his wrist, cringing when he pulls it too tight. 

He grabs his markers and draws a new butterfly on his wrist. Its jagged from how much he’s shaking but it gets the same point across.

He takes his shirt off and walks over to his closet. Most of his skirts are short sleeved, and he doesn’t want to show off his new injury. He grabs one of the few long sleeved shirt he keeps in the back of his closet. 

He pulls it over his head and adjusts it before laying back down onto the bed. He pulls out his phone and texts the only person he can think of. 

———

Dan and Phil decide to meet up at the coffee street they passed on the way to school every day. It was open 24/7 and it was the only place with decent coffee in town according to Phil. 

Dan arrives at the coffee shop fifteen minutes late the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. He looks around the almost empty shop for Phil and is surprised to see that his friend is nowhere to be seen. He pauses at the weird occurrence. Phil was never late.

Dan walks over to the counter as a feeling of confusion weighs on his shoulders, and he orders himself his usual cup of tea, and Phil a coffee. He stands by the counter waiting for the drinks to be prepared. He’s drumming his fingers on the counter in a steady beat contemplating why his friend is late. The barista calls his name, and he picks up the drinks. 

He looks around at the vacant tables and decides on the one closest to the window. He settles into the worn fabric of the couch and takes a sip of his tea. He prays that Phil wouldn’t be too long. After all, Phil probably didn’t like his cold coffee. 

A few minutes later Dan watches as Phil enters the shop and looks around. They make eye contact, and Phil walks towards the small sitting area. He plops down into the armchair across from Dan and slides his coffee towards himself. “Sorry I’m late,” Phil said.

Dan smiles, “It’s okay.”

Phil takes a sip of his drink. “You remember my order?” He asks.

Dan blushes, “Yeah.”

Dan pulls his cup closer to himself, warming his hands against the hot surface. He holds the cup close to his face and takes a sip.

“Tea?” Phil asks.

“Yeah,” he muses, “I guess I’m not the only one who remembers the other’s order.”

Phil rolls his eyes, but Dan can see a small smile playing on Phil’s lips. “What’s the point of getting tea at a coffee shop?” Phil mockes Dan’s tone. 

“You know I hate coffee”

“Who hates coffee?” 

It’s a playful remark, but it makes Dan angry. He can’t tell why, but it still does. “I do.” 

It comes out bitter and he instantly regrets it when he sees Phil’s face fall. He wishes that he didn’t snap at random times from the stress weighing on his shoulders. 

Phil stays silent, probably detecting the tone of his voice. “I’m sorry.”

Guilt fills Dan again. It isn’t Phil’s fault that his life sucked. Especially since Phil was the only good thing about his life. “No,” he sighs, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be mad at you.” 

Phil stares intently at him, no doubt putting the pieces together inside his head. “Did it happen again?”

“What?”

“Did he hurt you again?”

“I- no.”

“Then why are you so tense?”

Dan picks up his wrist from where it’s lying on the table. He slowly pulls down the black fabric covering the bandages and showes Phil. “Please don’t be mad,” he says in a weak voice.

Phil looks at him, and Dan could see the hurt in his eyes. “I’m not mad, Dan,” Phil sighs, “I just- Why’d you do it?”

Dan shrugs. He doesn’t know why he did it. It was an addiction at this point and he couldn’t control it any longer. “It was an accident,” Dan suggests.

“You accidentally cut yourself with a razor blade?” 

“No that’s not what I meant,” Dan sputters, “I accidentally grabbed the blade, and then, I couldn’t stop myself from doing it.”

Phil gives a small nod at this, probably not fully understanding what dan is trying to say. Silence fills the air for a second. “I’m moving,” Phil’s voice comes out small, and Dan barely hers him from how quiet the statement is.

“What?” 

“I’m moving.”

“No you can’t do that,” Dan mumbles, “You can’t leave me here alone.”

“Dan-”

“You can’t leave me alone, Phil,” Dan’s voice raises slightly as tears well in his eyes.

“Dan.”

“You can’t leave me here alone. You can’t leave me here alone,” Dan mumbles. His voice is lowering in volume, but the urgency is becoming more clear. “You can’t leave me here alone.”

He’s crying at this point. He’s not losing his best friend today. His mind is filling with unpleasant thoughts, and he picks up his warm cup in an attempt to ground himself.

“Dan,” Phil snaps him out of his daze, “You’re not listening to me. I want you to come with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I’m going to try to post weekly, but I don’t know how well that’ll work out. Follow me on Tumblr @ryrycaptain for updates.


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